Saviour By Design
by BloodySestra
Summary: When, Ciara, a 22 year old Irish girl, lands herself in hospital for her indulgent lifestyle, she finds herself entangled in a mess of conspiracy and family. Her whole life she has wished for sisters, but has she gotten more than she bargained for? What would you risk for a family you had never met? Set in the middle of S2 finale (immediately post Clone Dance Party if you will).
1. Chapter 1

I wake up groggy and disoriented. I open my eyes and slowly scan the room, blinded by the fluorescent light strip above me. I try to sit up and take a deep breath, but as soon as I begin to inhale, I feel a sharp pain in my chest, following up through my throat. I start to struggle and choke, coughing against whatever it is that's obstructing my airway. I raise my hand to my lips and find a tube filling mouth.

"Jesus, girl, don't pull on that! Hold on!", a woman in a nurses uniform (so, what the hell, let's call her a nurse) scolds as she rushes over to me. "Right now, cough, love, yeah that's it, a few big coughs", she says, while she yanks on the tube and wrenches my lungs from inside me.

When I'm finally free of the fiery tube of hell, I sputter and gasp, convinced there is no oxygen in the room, and if there is, it's staying very fucking far away from me.

The nurse laughs and hands me a glass of water. "Calm down", she says, as though dying of asphyxiation is no big deal, "Just take deep breaths and drink this. I'm just going to check your vitals. Do you know why you're here?"

I glare at her, and answer her only after finishing the water and regaining what feels like sub normal control of my breathing, "Yeah", I grunt, "New liver, woop, woop!" If she doesn't appreciate the 'woop'-ing, she certainly doesn't appreciate the fist-pumping.

She clucks her tongue like only Irish mothers seem to be able to do, looking me up and down like I'm shit on her shoe. "Yes, very impressive. Alcoholic with liver failure at 22. 'Woop' indeed." I pull a mock indignant face and tell her, in the chirpiest voice I can manage when I still sound like Darth Vader, "Now, now, don't diminish me to one thing. I am not merely an alcoholic. I am an alcoholic druggie." I snicker and wink at her, and tell her how much I'll miss her as she leaves the room in disgust.

Finally alone, I swing my legs out of the bed and brace myself to stand up. I yank the drip from my arm like they do in the movies, which, by the way, hurts a hell of a lot more than they make it seem. After cursing everything and everyone around me, I put on my shirt. Being a junkie and 'a little too fond of the drink', I'm used to being in a hospital and know how to get myself ready to go. The worst part, by far, is removing the catheter. Really you should remove the 'fluid' with a syringe, but tearing the balloony part and letting it spill out works too. I stab it over and over with a pen that the nurse left behind and watch my own piss spill out onto the bed sheets. Then I pull, which I won't go into detail about because it hurts like fuck and is not something I like to dwell on.

Just as I'm pulling on my jeans, an older nurse approaches me. I can see her preparing to say something and cut her off before she can, "Listen, granny, I don't care what the procedures are, I need a drink and I need it now, so I'm out of here, and don't even bother giving me whatever scolding I can see rolling behind your eyes and just let me go."

She seems taken aback, a reaction I'm very accustomed to, and inwardly I'm pleased. I turn my back on her to put on my shoes, when suddenly I feel a hand on my shoulder. This disarms me. I'm not used to people coming so close to me. My hair is unkempt and dirty, my face is hardly inviting, and my general posture is the embodiment of 'fuck off'. I whip around and find myself caught in her gaze. I'm struck by the familiarity of her stare, and look at her more closely. Do I know this person?

"Ciara." She whispers my name, smiling at me. I feel uneasy and confused, finding myself unable to speak. "Please, follow me." I can't tell you why I want to follow her, I guess because I can't remember the last time someone wanted me to follow them instead of leave them. She turns her back on me and walks away, apparently trusting I will do as she says. I'm frozen in place, trying to comprehend the feelings coursing through me. But I am an indulgent person, and because such a big part of me wants to follow her, I ignore the wary thoughts screaming at me, instead walking along in her wake.

Not once does she look back. I am in awe of this woman. How does she know my name? How did she know I would not be able to resist following her? What does she want from me?

She takes me outside the hospital, clicks open a black car only a few paces from the exit, and sits in the passengers seat, apparently waiting for me to take the drivers. I walk around to the right side of the car and pull the handle, waiting for some sort of acknowledgement from her before I get in. "What are you waiting for, get the fuck in!" she shouts, no longer sounding like a sweet old Irish lady, but a serious American prison guard.

More out of shock than fear, I clamber into the car as fast as I can. I take this moment to look her up and down. She might be short, but she's not frail, her hair is grey and wild. Her eyes are green with the vibrancy of a twenty year old discovering cocaine. She looks strong.

"Well, didn't you go fucking AWOL?", she barks, grabbing my head on either side, her hands planted right below my ears. I struggle against her grip, shaking my head from side to side and pulling on her arms, leaving us in a strange embrace. "Jesus Christ!", I yell, and she lets go, laughing. She raises her hands in surrender and pulls a kissy face. "Just making sure it was you", she tells me, stroking the tiny brown birthmark above my eyebrow. I frown and knock her hand away.

There is a silence. She is looking at me intently, as though drinking in what she's seeing. "You don't look like I expected.", I hear her mutter, causing a jarring sense of inadequacy to pulse through me. I'm on the overweight side, my teeth are in shit, I wear the ugliest glasses because they were the only ones I could steal that I could see through, my skin is still slightly yellow from the liver failure. In short, I am not a runway model.

I exhale loudly and retort, "Jesus, thanks, just what I wanted to hear after a life or death surgery." The woman raises her eyebrows but says nothing. I am becoming very frustrated and am on the verge of getting out of the car when she speaks again.

"You're right, I'm sorry if I offended you." I jerk my head slightly in a vaguely nodding gesture, but do not open my mouth to speak. She continues. "You can call me Dee." Something far off rings in my head, and she… I mean, Dee, seems to notice this. She smiles, "Seems familiar but out of reach, right? Let me buy you dinner."

My turkey and ham dinner lies half eaten and forgotten in front of me. My mouth is hanging open and Dee is looking at me like I'm a four year old child who keeps missing the potty. "Jesus. Fuck. Jesus fucking…. Jesus." Dee rubs her face as though she's exhausted. "Do you understand?", she asks, more pleading than questioning. I open and close my mouth uselessly, and eventually manage to get a few words out. "Can… Could…. What… Tell me again."

Dee slaps her palm to her face and says through gritted teeth "Okay, one more time." She takes a deep breath before taking me through the story again.

"About thirty years ago, a scientist called Aldous Leekie decided to start a revolutionary experiment. Project Leda. He wanted to create and raise human clones. And, for the most part, he succeeded. However, at some point in the experiment, when the clones were created but yet to be born, one of the surrogates found she was carrying twins. This surrogate's name was Amelia. She lost faith in the experiment, I still don't know why. So she ran. When the twins were born, she left one in the care of the church. I don't know where that clone is now. For the other, she sought the help of Siobhan Sadler. Siobhan has never told me how Amelia found her or why she sought Siobhan out specifically, but, for now, it doesn't matter. Siobhan helped Amelia get the child, Sarah Manning, into the fostering system in England, where she knew she could eventually get Sarah into her care. You have to understand, Siobhan Sadler is a very powerful woman. She has connections that are very important. Siobhan knew this man, Carlton, who, she says, had inside information on the experiment. Years later, he sought her out to tell her that some of the clones were becoming ill. He had no guarantee that Sarah would be affected, but he couldn't guarantee her health either. So they came up with a…. a contingency plan, if you will. That's where I come in. I'm a doctor, and Siobhan came to me for help. I don't quite know how to explain this in non medical terms…. I could get a sample from Sarah and alter the embryo so that it would be a genetic match for Sarah. Not an identical clone, just a match. So the child could donate marrow, organs, and so on, to Sarah if the need ever arose. You are that child."

Dee looks at me as though I might have some intelligent response to this. I don't know what to say. I take a shaky breath.

"So, you're telling me I was genetically engineered to…. to what? Save this Sarah Manning's life?"

Dee looks me right in the eye, and says, "Yes, and it's time to fulfil that purpose."


	2. Chapter 2

I stare incredulously at the piece of paper Dee has just placed in front of me. It's a plane ticket to America. One way. I laugh nervously, but glance up to find a very serious expression looking at me.

"Are you serious?!", I eventually manage to get out. "You drop this bombshell on me immediately after a fucking surgery and you expect me to just up and leave?"

Dee winces and raises a palm in a gesture for me to calm down. "Please keep your voice down. Just relax, Ciara."

I snort derisively, rocking back and forth slightly in my chair, no longer able to sit still. "Oh!", I say, "Yes, why don't I relax? That'll fix everything! You've just told me that you and this… this Sadler woman deliberately engineered me to be _spare parts_ for a goddamn clone, as if that wasn't fucking crazy enough already, you then abandoned me! At least up until now I could comfort myself with the thought that my mother was some single prostitute who would have somehow been worse for me than the life I actually had, but no, oh no, no, no, I was very, _very _planned and somehow still ended up unwanted! Thank you very fucking much!"

I'm breathing heavily from my outburst. Some of the diners around us are now sneaking furtive glances my way. I slap my hand down onto the table to try to relieve some of the tension that is making me feel as though my head is a balloon about to pop. I feel Dee's hand lightly touch mine, and I meet her eyes. They are soft and she looks upset. Good. Bitch.

Dee quietly pays the bill and leads the way back to the car. When we are both inside and I feel slightly calmer, I sigh and run my hands through my hair.

"Why did you… she… whoever…. Why did they leave me?"

I ask this as nonchalantly as I can manage, but I can't breathe. It hurts me deeply that I was born for a specific, and apparently very important, purpose, and I still wasn't enough for anybody to want to keep me.

I don't even have to look up to feel the pity rolling off Dee's body, and I recoil as though it could physically harm me. The silence is uncomfortable. I have no intention of being the one to break it.

Eventually, Dee speaks. "It wasn't personal, Ciara", she speaks louder for a moment to drown out my 'Go fuck yourself' and continues, "This is all a lot bigger than you or Sarah. Siobhan couldn't have you living with her and Sarah, if they were ever found out they would not only have found a clone but a guarantee that if that clone ever fell ill, they would have a way to save her in you."

I cut Dee off. "I'm not even going to ask why anyone would be looking for them, obviously this situation is fucked so let's just ignore that. Why would it be such a big deal if they found me? Couldn't they just have one of me for every clone? Then they're all safe. If they can make a clone they can make a.. what, a sibling I guess?... that could donate to every clone. Right?"

"Well..", Dee begins, obviously measuring what she's about to say very closely. "In theory, yes. But, I guess Leekie somehow found out what Siobhan and I had done. In the middle of the pregnancy, Carlton came to Siobhan with the news that the clones who were under observation by monitors had all had their genes…. The simplest term I can think of is locked. They can't be accessed unless you have the code."

I nod. Makes sense really. "How many of the clones had someone like me before this happened?", I ask.

Dee pulls a grimace. I shake my head. No. No way. This cannot be happening. "I'm the only one?" I feel sick. Sick. "How sick is Sarah?", I blurt out. Dee frowns. "Ah", she exhales, placing her hand on the headrest I'm leaning against. "It's not Sarah that's sick."

I snap my head up, gripping the seat on either side. "What are you talking about?", I growl between gritted teeth. Dee hurries to explain. "Some of the clones have found each other. They're together now. Siobhan has access to them. Sarah isn't sick, but, according to Siobhan, one of her sisters is. Badly."

I frown. "But I'm supposed to save Sarah, isn't that the whole point of my existence?" Dee puts her hand on my knee, and I'm so engrossed I don't even pull away. "Originally, yes, that was your purpose." I search her eyes. "But now?", I prompt. Dee leans in to me slightly and says, "Now, you're the only hope for all of them. They're Sarah's exact clones, so you're a match for them all. Sarah's sister will die without your help."

I let out a breath I've been holding for what feels like a decade and slide slowly away from Dee. This is insane. I feel like I'm in a movie. This. Is. Not. Happening. Dee starts the car and begins to drive without a word. I'm grateful. I need some quiet to try to process the chaos in my head.

After a while, I ask Dee where we're going. "The airport.", she replies. I'm taken aback, and Dee doesn't even need to look at me to respond accordingly.

"Look, Ciara. You've had a hard life. I am truly sorry for that. You've done what you needed to do to survive, and you act like some hardened criminal, but we both know you're not. You're a good person, and I know you wouldn't let someone die just so you can stay here and drink until you need a third liver. I understand there's still so much left unanswered, and I promise I'll explain it all to you when there's time. I wish I could give you time to decide yourself that you want to go, but I can't. It has to be now. Alright?"

I open and close my mouth, trying to think of anything intelligent I can respond with. My palms are sweaty, my heart is pounding in my throat, the surgery scar hurts like a bitch. For the first time in a very long time, I feel alive.

"Well?!", Dee exclaims, exasperated. I look at her, seeing the brightness of my eyes reflected in hers. I lick my lips and can't help but smile.

"I've always wanted to go to America."


	3. Chapter 3

The stewardess starts to avoid me after my fourth vodka. But it's a long flight and I have no plans to spend it sober. After I'd agreed to go, Dee gave me a passport, driver's licence, and a credit card. "I pay for this credit card", she said, "So please don't abuse it." I'm not sure she'd agree that ten dollar a pop vodkas don't count as abuse.

I'm not sure if it's my imagination or some sort of placebo effect (which I guess is technically my imagination too but whatever), but I think I'm getting drunk faster. My head already feels a bit fuzzy and there's a definite warmth in my stomach. Guess this new liver has some breaking in in it.

Dee had walked me to the terminal and almost seemed emotional when it came time to part. She took my shoulders in her hands and looked at me. And I mean looked. It's weird the things you forget about when you're alone most of the time. Eye contact becomes much more meaningful and, dare I say it, intimate. I think she might have been about to cry, but she controlled herself rather quickly. "Okay", she breathed, "You're doing a good thing, Ciara." I'm about to interrupt her to tell her I fucking know but she cuts me off. "No, I mean it. You've been fucked over and you're bitter. You have every right to be. Just promise me, whatever happens next, just remember that you're brave. You're selfless. You're doing the right thing. No matter how crazy and scary things might get, remember that you can do it."

Her words echo in my head as I fall asleep. _You can do it_.

I must have been more worn out from the surgery than I thought, because when I wake up, everybody is leaving the plane. I find myself standing outside the main exit from the airport, realising that I have no idea what I'm supposed to do now I'm here. I'm kind of hoping some guy wearing a fancy suit will pull up in a limo, walk towards me with a sign that reads 'Saint Ciara', but apparently that's just too much to ask.

I take a swig from one of the bottles I got in the duty free. I even put it in a brown paper bag. Makes me feel like I'm in a movie. I decide I'll just sit down against the wall and hope someone will come along.

I use the time to think about how much my life has changed in the past day. This is absolutely insane. I suddenly realise how utterly ridiculous this is. Did I really just fly across the Atlantic because some woman who says she knows my past fed me some crazy story about how I need to save a person's life? And not just a person. A _clone_. I must have still been high on meds from the surgery. But she did give me her credit card. Paid for a flight. Why would she do that if she wasn't telling the truth?

My thoughts are interrupted by an exclamation from my left, "Ciara!". I don't even have to ask who it is. Anywhere abroad, an Irish accent sticks out like a sore thumb. "Siobhan.", I reply.

Siobhan is looking at me like I've just risen from the dead, although I guess for her I might as well have. I don't say anything, just look her up and down. She's wearing a leather jacket, which annoys me because it makes her look cool. She's got fierce eyes and unruly black hair. She's not smiling, and I get the feeling that isn't strange. Her hands are stuffed into the pockets of her jeans. She looks me up and down, obviously unimpressed, and I bristle. I try to smile but end up just gritting my teeth at her, and I squeeze out, "Looks like your prodigal has returned."

I'm sitting in the passenger seat of some god awful pick up truck, staring sullenly through the windscreen at the unfamiliar surroundings before me. I don't even ask where we're going. I don't care.

Siobhan sighs and finally breaks the silence, "I had hoped I would never meet you again." Her words hit me in the gut, and I feel like someone's actually knocked the wind out of me. I swallow my hurt, replying, "Thanks, Mother Theresa, I'll be sure next time someone abandons me to never show my face around them again." There's a catch in my throat on the 'again', so I chug from my baggie. Siobhan looks at me in disgust. I tell her to fuck off. To my surprise, she laughs. "Ah", she says, "There's a bit of life in you yet." I suppress a smile. I decide it's time to test this whole thing out.

"Tell me my story.", I say, and listen to her tell the exact same story Dee told me. Siobhan raises her eyebrows, "Well, did we pass?". I snort and shake my head incredulously. Thankfully, she seems to realise I can't exactly verbalise anything right now, so she continues talking. "You'll get used to it. The insanity of it all. Pretty soon you'll be hearing all these crazy things, and they'll go down easier than a cup of tea after a long day." She eyes the brown bag. "Or maybe a whiskey in your case."

I finish the bottle and pull it out of the bag, showing Siobhan the label. "Vodka.", I tell her, "Although I wouldn't turn down a bit of whiskey." She rolls her eyes and mutters, "I doubt there's much you'd turn down." I elbow her and wink suggestively. "Why, what are you offering?" She laughs a little at that, and it makes me feel better. I've always liked to make people laugh, especially when I'm feeling uncomfortable. It's pretty hard for there to be tension when you're laughing.

Slowly, we pull to a stop. "We're here.", Siobhan says, and moves to open the door. "Wait!", I blurt out, sounding more panicky than I'd like, "If _here_ is where I think _here_ is, then I'm not sure _here_ is exactly what I'm ready for right now." Siobhan turns back to me and asks, "And where do you think 'here' is?" I raise my hands, moving my fingers in a quotation mark gesture, "Clonetown.", I whisper, widening my eyes. Siobhan smirks, then looks at me more softly than I would have thought she was capable of. My joking nature has evaporated and I can feel my hands shaking. I run them through my hair in a failed attempt to distract from the fact. Siobhan seems to be weighing what she's about to say next very carefully. She looks away from me and says quietly, "You don't have to be so nervous. They're your family now." I close my eyes to hide my tears and take a few, shaky breaths before replying, "That's what I'm afraid of."


	4. Chapter 4

I like the apartment before we even step into it. The door is this big metal slider with graffiti all over it, which even in my nervous state I find pretty damn cool. The apartment isn't clean but it's not dirty either, pretty big, with lots of paintings scattered on almost every available surface, one half-finished still sitting on an easel. It looks like the kind of place I could end up in on a Saturday night (who am I kidding; Tuesday afternoon). I barely have time to take any of this in, however, because there are three people sitting on the living room furniture, staring at me, mouths agape.

Perched on an armchair is a tall, slim man, wearing a long sleeve, tight fitting sweater and skinny jeans. His hair is almost as perfect as his eyeliner. Adjacent to him, leaning back on the sofa, is a woman with black hair that's just the right amount of unkempt. She's wearing a leather jacket and black jeans, and her posture leaves no doubt that she is not to be messed with. The woman beside her is who really draws my eye. She has glasses and dreads, which I usually think is nothing short of horrific on white women but she really pulls it off. She has tubes in her nose and an oxygen tank beside her, but that isn't what draws my eye. She has a very beautiful smile, and I'm surprised she's showing it to me. Then again, I'm obviously here because of her, so why wouldn't she be happy to see me.

I try to stand up straight and look at least a little presentable. I have seriously detracted from the attractiveness level in the room. No one speaks for what feels like an eternity, and I'm itching to open another bottle of vodka and takes a few long pulls. Siobhan must sense this, because she gives me a scathing look and finally closes the door behind us. I feel like I'm in one of those dreams where you're naked in front of a whole room of people, but there's no solution as easy as just putting on some clothes for this situation.

I slide my hands into my pockets and start to rock back and forth on the balls of my feet a little. I'm trying to think of something even mildly intelligent to say when the woman with the oxygen tank speaks. "Wow, sorry, so weird that you're here. We kind of thought you might be imaginary.", she says, with a little exhale of laughter on the end of the sentence. I take my hands out of my pockets and raise them above my shoulders as if to say, "Nope, right here.", but I can't speak quite yet. Thankfully, she continues, "I'm Cosima, it's nice to meet you." It takes me a moment to realise she is trying to get up, but when I do I rush forward and grasp her hand from where she's sitting. "Ciara.", I mumble.

At the mention of my name, the scary girl's head whips around and snaps "What?", only she doesn't pronounce the 'T' in 'what' due to her very heavy English accent. I look at her tentatively and she demands, "Say again?" "Ciara.", I reply, "My name is Ciara." At this the woman turns to Siobhan and shouts, "Is this some kind of bloody joke?" The man doesn't look too happy either, and I'm left gobsmacked, still clutching Cosima's hand, which I quickly drop, trying to shrug apologetically. "Oh for God's sake, Sarah.", Siobhan says tiredly. The scary woman, who I now gather is the Sarah Manning Dee told me about, bites back, "Oh it's just a coincidence that you suggested that name then is it?" I have no idea what's going on and have a mind to ask, but can't bring myself to when I see how angry Sarah is. "Well, what's the harm in it?", Siobhan replies, "She spells it differently anyway."

Everyone looks back at me as if for confirmation. I spell out my name for them, feeling like a toddler learning their first words. Sarah doesn't seem satisfied and continues to glare back and forth between Siobhan and myself. Suddenly the man stands up and offers his hand to me. "I'm Felix, by the way. Welcome to hell." He has a soft way of speaking, slightly feminine with the same accent as Sarah, but nicer to listen to. I nod and say thanks, I think, and go back to being awkward as fuck.

Cosima takes pity on me and tells me to sit down, then pulls my arm to make me settle beside her. Sitting in this close proximity to her and Sarah it's hard to stop the yelling in my head that they have the EXACT SAME FACE. Sure, they both have different expressions, hairstyles, clothes, posture… But there's no denying they look identical to each other. Obviously I've seen twins before but not even the most identical twins you've ever seen look this similar. No. Not similar. The same. There's no denying it.

Felix smiles at me and says softly, "I'll let you know when it stops being weird." I bark out a laugh and widen my eyes, shaking my head. "This is insane.", I say, mostly to myself but Sarah replies, "You're telling me." She's still looking suspiciously at Siobhan and I have no desire to draw that stare back onto me so I don't respond.

Siobhan walks across the room and places herself directly in front of me, with a coffee table I somehow hadn't noticed before between us. With her hands in her jacket pockets she says, "Okay then. You're here." I nod and swallow much more loudly than I would have liked. "Well, why don't you tell us about your life. I really don't know much." I close my eyes for a second to try to control the anger that bubbled up inside me at the nonchalant way she said those words, and decide I want to make her squirm.

"I spent the first few years of my life in an orphanage in Ireland, but I guess you already knew that. I don't really remember much about that, I think I was like 5 when I was fostered out so I've really only got vague memories of it, none of them I like to dwell on. I was fostered by a middle aged couple called Mary and Tom Power, I know, can't get more Irish than that right? Anyway, Mary was a bit gone in the head. She meant well but couldn't get out of bed a lot of days and never seemed to know who I was. I guess she had early onset Alzheimer's or something, but no one ever told me for sure." Here, I pause and look at Siobhan. She's not showing any emotions. I start to suspect she knows more than she's letting on.

"It must have started as soon as I got there because I don't ever remember it not happening. Tom would put Mary to bed, if she was up, and then settle down for a nice evening of drinking. Eventually he would come to my room and clamber into my bed, blowing his stinking breath right into my face. He would turn me over and…" I can't continue the sentence but I can tell from the tension in the room that there's no need. Cosima looks to be holding back tears, Felix has his hand over his mouth and Sarah is looking at the ground. Siobhan is expressionless.

"Yeah. So, that went on almost every night until I got pregnant. I was 13, and I tried to hide it. He eventually realised though, and he started trying to make me miscarry. He would make me drink, give me pills, then when the money ran out for all that he started to beat me. Only in the stomach. Only where no one would ever see. It worked, to an extent. I didn't miscarry, but the baby was very premature and stillborn. The birth didn't go well and Tom had no choice but to bring me to the hospital, where he forced me to tell the doctors I had fallen pregnant by a boy in school and hadn't wanted to tell anybody. Later that night, I left the hospital and ran away. I've been living on the streets and in shelters since, sometimes with squatters if they have a good place." I sigh. "I think that's it really. Troubled childhood, misspent youth… Oh yeah, and I had a liver transplant like 2 days ago." I pat the scar, making myself wince.

The silence in the room is unbearable. I feel braver now so I look at Siobhan and say, "So, seriously, thanks for the life, my mighty creator. It's been a real blast.", and I give her a mocking thumbs up. Felix jumps up from his seat, running his hands through his hair. "Holy shit. I need a drink."

Suddenly Siobhan speaks, in a menacing, quiet voice, "Don't you ever talk to me like that again. I did what I had to do." I cut her off and shout "Not for me! Not for me you didn't! Don't act like I don't have a right to question you. You fucking left me there. I never had to exist! It was your choice!" I'm breathing heavily now and I'm furious. I bite my tongue before I say something I'll regret. I get up from the sofa, pacing the room instead to try to burn off some of the adrenaline I can feel in my veins.

"You don't understand." I hear her say it as though from far away. I whip around to face her and grasp two fistfuls of her jacket. Sarah leaps up as though to pull me away but just stands frozen, Felix is looking at me in pity and Cosima's mouth is opening and closing without any words falling out. I turn my gaze back to Siobhan and look her straight in the eyes. "Fuck you.", I spit at her, before throwing her away from me.

Before anyone can say another word, I pull open the door and storm out.


	5. Chapter 5

I only go as far as the staircase leading up to the apartment before I sit down and reach my hand into the bag I'm still holding from the duty free. I take huge gulps from the bottle I pull out as tears roll down my face. I purposely haven't thought about my childhood in a long time, and blurting it out like that brings the emotions I've suppressed all these years surging up again. It disgusts me that I'm sitting here drinking when alcohol was such a huge part of my abuse, but I'm too far gone to help that now. Full circle, I guess.

I hear the metal door sliding open, so I hide my face in my hands and try to dry my tears. I expect it to be Siobhan, about to tell me to go back where I came from, but, when I look up, it's Sarah that's standing above me. She sits on the step below me, her back against the wall so she can look at me. Now that I can look at her closely, I see that while she undoubtedly has a toughness and bravery about her, she's not as scary as my first impression suggested. There's a softness to her, especially in her eyes. I search my vocabulary for a word that does her justice, and I find it - striking.

Sarah frowns slightly and I realise I've been staring at her, so I offer her the bottle I still have clutched in my fist to distract her. She takes it without a word, taking an impressively long pull, wincing only slightly. I can see she's got something to say, so I decide to stay quiet and allow her to work her way up to it.

"Thank you for coming here.", Sarah says eventually. The sincerity in her voice catches me off guard. I simply nod and look down at my feet. She lowers her head, trying to catch my eye. When I eventually make eye contact with her, she continues, "I mean it. I'm sorry I went off in there before. That was about Mrs. S, not you, yeah?" I swallow, and reply, "Okay. Okay, yeah, thanks." I sigh and let out a laugh. Sarah looks confused and I say, "So you're the reason I exist. Kinda weird, huh?" She smiles and says, "Welcome to the trip, man.", then laughs to herself as though she's just told a joke.

We sit quietly for a few minutes until I ask, "How much of what I've been told is the truth?" Sarah shrugs, replying, "Depends what you've been told." I give her a run down of the story Dee told me, Leekie creating clones, Siobhan and Carlton's rescue mission, the contingency plan. When I'm finished, Sarah sighs and says, "That is the general gist of it. I mean, I don't really know anything about how I ended up at Mrs. S' or anything like that. You've gotta remember, this is all new to me too, yeah? I didn't even know I was a bloody clone until recently, never mind the health risks that go with it. Dr Leekie, though, that's not right. He's heavily involved, alright, but this is way bigger than him. He's just another pawn." I nod again, not quite sure what to say. I get the feeling speechlessness is going to be something I'll have to get used to.

Sarah looks uncomfortable and I can tell she wants to say something, and I know it's about what I said in the apartment. I decide to speak up myself before she has the chance to say anything. "Look, forget it. I was angry and hurt, I shouldn't have said anything. You're sorry, I know, and I appreciate it, but we can't change the past. I think we both know it's time to look forward." Sarah seems impressed. She gives me a smile, tells me I'm right, and stands up. I follow her lead. "In the interest of looking forward", she begins, now standing on a level with me, "Cosima needs your help."

Sarah brings me back into the apartment, where I resume my seat beside Cosima, avoiding Siobhan's gaze entirely. Cosima smiles at me and I smile back, saying, "Sorry about before. Nerves and all that." Cosima places her hand on my upper arm, caressing it gently. "No problem.", she whispers, apparently so Siobhan won't hear, "You're entitled to your questions and your pain." She gives me a small, sad smile. I can feel the tears coming back so I cough and rub my eyes.

"Anyway", I say, shaking my head, "Cosima, what do you need?", I place my hand on her shoulder, putting on a mock salesman voice, "I've got a heart, two lungs, two kidneys, a second hand liver, and so much intestine you could wrap yourself up in it and use it as a blanket!" Sarah snorts with laughter, although Felix doesn't look too impressed. I look at him as I add, "Did I mention it's all custom made?" That gets a grin. "Jesus", Felix sighs, "Another one that's batshit crazy."

I turn my gaze back to Cosima, who is smiling weakly but looks drained. She gives me a searching look. I can barely hear her as she says, "You don't have to do this, you know." I take her hand, a gesture I am not used to making, and reply, in a hushed tone to match hers, "I know. But I'm a bum, not a monster. I can't let someone suffer just because I don't feel like helping. I won't."

Sarah steps in. "Cosima needs your bone marrow.", she explains. I stand up and raise my hands in a 'what's the big deal' gesture. "Easy!", I laugh, "People do that every day!" Sarah and Felix exchange awkward glances, and I look to Cosima for reassurance. She has her eyes closed and looks like she's in pain. Before I can say anything, Sarah interjects, "There is just one small thing."

Sarah walks over to the sofa slowly and sits down beside me. I look from her to Felix and back, unsure of what it is that's making them so uncomfortable. I laugh awkwardly. "Well, spit it out.", I try to say nonchalantly, although I'm sure it just comes across as nervous. Sarah takes a deep breath and speaks calmly and slowly. "The thing is… We can't exactly go to a hospital. We're in hiding, yeah? There can't be any record of this. We don't want DYAD or Rachel knowing we've got you up our sleeve." DYAD? Rachel? I frown and begin to ask what she's talking about when Felix cuts in. "DYAD; The evil corporation of clone creating and now clone chasing bastards. Rachel; proclone with serious daddy issues." "Proclone.", I repeat, bewildered. "That's not good?" Sarah snorts. "No, that is definitely not good." I prevent myself from questioning any further, there's a more important issue here: Cosima.

"Okay, so to avoid detection, we are going to….?" I wait for someone to fill in the blank, but the answer I receive is not what I was expecting. Sarah hesitates, fidgeting and looking at her feet. After a few seconds Sarah clears her throat and says as cheerfully as she can manage, "I'm going to do it." I raise my eyebrows, sure she couldn't be suggesting what I think she is. "You're going to do what?" She grimaces, "I'll… you know.. perform the procedure." The words don't even sound right coming out of her mouth, and I snigger. I clap my hands together and say, "Brilliant. I'll just see your medical license then and we can get right to it, Dr Manning." Cosima squirms and I can see this conversation is agony for her. Maybe joking around isn't the best direction to take this. I place my hand awkwardly on Cosima's knee. She seems grateful, which makes me more comfortable. I keep my gaze on her as I say, "I'm kidding. Whatever way you want to do this, I'm in."

And that is how I find myself face down on a questionable double bed, my left hip bare, my body contorted in an unnatural position so that my hip is presented well enough to stick giant motherfucking needle into it. Felix bowed out as soon as I insisted we do the procedure immediately, Siobhan left shortly after him, barely even muttering goodbye. I can't say it'll pain me to be away from her for a while.

Sarah and Cosima are sitting side by side, talking to someone through the webcam on a laptop that has an extremely cool DNA decal on the lid. I find myself fascinated by it, so much so that I don't realise that they are both now looking over the laptop, right at me. I wink at them and they both give me a smile. When their expressions are as similar as they are right now, it's hard not to be engrossed by them. Sarah stands up, bringing the laptop with her, leaving Cosima sitting in front of me. Cosima looks more nervous than I feel, so I tell her to relax. She laughs and shakes her head, saying incredulously, "Why are you comforting me?". I smirk, trying and failing to shrug in my awkward position, replying, "I'm just weird." I grin and waggle my tongue around to prove my point. I hear Sarah exhale a breath of laughter before muttering, "You're not wrong."

The person on the other end of the webcam starts to give Sarah instructions, and she moves to position herself by my hip, where I can't see her. My breathing is shaky now, but I try to cover it up for both Cosima and Sarah's sakes. I've been drinking steadily since we decided to go through with it today. Self medication since we have no anaesthesia. I raise myself up to take one last drink, handing the bottle to Cosima when I've finished. She places it beside the bed before lying down on the bed, facing me. "You want me to talk you through it?", she asks quietly, but I screw my eyes up tightly and shake my head, "No. Just.. Stay there. It'd help me if you stayed there." It's the most vulnerable I've been around anybody in a long time, and it brings a catch to my throat.

I squeeze my eyes shut as I feel Sarah make the first incision. It hurts like a bitch, but I try not to make a sound. It's only going to get worse. Cosima scoots closer to me and I open my eyes. She looks sad, so I try to grin, and I think I at least manage a smile. She has her hands pressed together beneath her head, and I notice a tattoo on her forearm. I ask to see it. She silently lowers her hand and places it between us on the bed, the inside of her forearm facing up. At first glance it simply looks like a shell, but I recognise the shape to be something much more complex. I trace it with my fingertips, and mutter, without meaning to, "The golden ratio." Cosima smiles, looking shocked. "Yeah.", she says, frowning slightly. I wince as Sarah continues her work at my hip, barely registering the chattering of the person on the webcam. I explain myself briefly, still engrossed by the tattoo, "I had a friend that worked in a library. Unlimited free books, free internet, free movies.. He let me spend as long as I wanted in there, always had a computer free for me. I spent a lot of time there." Cosima smiles and Sarah butts in, "Yay, another bloody geek." We all laugh a little, and I go back to tracing Cosima's tattoo. "It's kind of nice though, right?", I say, caught up in my musings, not even noticing if Cosima is listening, "You know, the thought that no matter who we are or who we become, we all have this in common. Sure, maybe it's not totally proven and maybe I'm simplifying it too much, but the idea that we all started from the same place? We all started from this… blueprint… and look what we do with it? Look how different we can all be, even if at our core we're all the same. You could never drift far enough away that you'd meet a person who doesn't share this with you. It's comforting, right?"

I don't realise until I snap out of my daze that I've been rabbiting on for a while. I smile sheepishly and apologise. Cosima shakes her head. "No. Don't be sorry. I just didn't expect that from you." She must realise what she's just said because her eyes widen and she rushes to say, "Oh, God, sorry, I didn't mean it to come out like that!" I grab her hand, which she had been waving around, and press it back down onto the bed. "It's fine!, I reassure her, "I like to surprise people. It's better to be underestimated than overestimated." I laugh. It's nice to impress someone instead of disappoint them for a change.

I'm beginning to lose the ability to ignore the pain from my hip now, which is very sharp and intense. I tense up, gritting my teeth. Sarah must notice because she says, in a surprisingly soothing voice, "Just a few more minutes. You're doing great." Distantly, I hear Cosima ask me something. I push away the pain and try to focus on her. "Sorry, what?" "Why are you doing this?", she repeats, all kinds of emotions tearing away at her voice. "You don't even know me, why would you put yourself through this?" The question rips at my heart a little, knowing that I can't answer her completely truthfully just yet, it's too painful. So I say something else true, "We're all the same, right?" I don't think I've fully convinced her, but Cosima senses not to push the issue, so she just smiles and nods. "Right.", she whispers.

Finally, I hear the tearing of plastic as Sarah presses a bandage over my hip. She thanks the laptop doctor and I hear her close the lid. She pats my back lightly and says, "All done." I look from Cosima's tattoo to the tubes in her nose. I listen to her heavy breathing. I see her mouth, with her lips sporting painful sores, which she still manages to stretch into a weary but beautiful smile. And I know it's only just beginning.


	6. Chapter 6

I'm sprawled on the floor of Felix's bathroom, which can most kindly be described as 'unclean'. My surgery scar is throbbing, my hip is radiating pain throughout my entire back, but the lion's share of the blame for my current situation lies at the bottom of a vodka bottle. Or three.

I fell into an exhausted sleep immediately after Sarah had finished taking the marrow from me, and when I woke up Felix was back, suggesting we all have some drinks together so they could get to know me. I cringe as I realise how little I can remember, hoping I didn't say or do anything too embarrassing. This thought leaves me rather quickly though, as I have to sit up to vomit noisily into the toilet again.

When I raise my head back up again, I am startled by a woman standing at the doorway of the bathroom, with only the beads that apparently replace an actual door between us. I jump and make a frightened grunt, trying to quickly pick myself up from the floor. "Uh, sorry.", I mumble. It is only when I manage to drag myself up that I look at the woman properly. I am shocked to note that she looks like Sarah and Cosima - another clone. She has wild blond hair, a pale face with eyes that look like she hasn't had a decent night's sleep in years, and she does not look pleased to see me.

"Who are you?" She asks menacingly. I can't quite place her accent, but it's definitely Eastern European. I back slowly away, but given the small size of the bathroom it doesn't make much difference. "Ah.. I'm.. I'm h-here", I start to stammer, now raising my hands in a gesture of surrender. The woman cuts me off by advancing on me all of a shot, the beads in the doorway flying in every direction, banging against the wall. She grabs me by the throat, squeezing far too hard for this to be an idle threat. "You are here to hurt my sestras?", she whispers, still clutching my throat in her hand. She is frighteningly strong. My breaths are coming in painful gasps now, and I start to claw at her hand.

"Helena!", I hear Sarah shout distantly, my vision going black at the edges. "Bloody hell, Helena, let her go!" The next thing I know I'm back on the bathroom floor, drawing in wheezing gulps of air. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out the pain. I can almost tell where each of her fingers pressed into my windpipe.

Sarah kneels beside me, patting me on the back. "Jesus, I'm sorry! I thought she'd calmed down, she was asleep nearly all day yesterday, I thought she'd be fine! I'm so sorry!" I cough, wincing, but sit up and wave Sarah away. "Don't worry.", I croak out, reaching for her shoulder to help push myself to my feet. I drag myself to the sofa, lying down across the length of it. The blond woman is standing sheepishly just outside the bathroom door. "Who is that?", I ask, directing my question at Sarah, too scared to ask the woman directly.

"That", Sarah begins is a scolding tone, looking not at me but at her, "Is Helena. As you might have noticed, she's another one of my sister's." Helena smiles like a child and says, "Sestra." Sarah seems unimpressed, replying, "No, meathead. You're in trouble." Sarah grabs Helena by the upper arm, sitting her on the armchair by my feet. "Helena, this is Ciara." Helena frowns. "This is not Kira." Sarah sighs and shakes her head. She looks at me in exasperation. "Do you have a nickname or something? We have another Kira, I think it might be a bit much for her to grasp." I raise my eyebrows, but Sarah cuts me off before I can ask, "Later."

I shrug. "The kids in school used to call me Beaker. You know, like that kids' TV show, Tracy Beaker?" The show was about the children in a foster home, so it's no mystery why the name got put on me. It was an English show, so I expect Sarah to know it, and she gives me a nod. "Seems kinda mean though?", she says, and I smirk, replying, "Nah, I made it work for me. I was sick of everyone thinking they were really clever and funny every day, taunting me with it. I knew they wouldn't drop it, so I decided I'd make it my own. This one day I walked into science class, and a boy I really hated started everyone chanting 'Beaker, Beaker'. So I picked up a pyrex beaker from one of the benches, looked him right in the eye, said 'Yeah, I am.', and smashed it across his head. Everyone called me Beaker after that, but not because of Tracy." I'm laughing as I finish telling the story. It was one of the more badass moments of my life, and I've always been weirdly proud of it.

Sarah seems lost for words, and eventually raises her hand for a high five. I can't stop myself from giving her one, still laughing. She shakes her head incredulously, continuing my introduction to Helena. "Okay then. Helena, this is Beaker. She's here to help Cosima. You be nice to her, right?" It's endearing how Helena hangs off Sarah's every word. Even though she just tried to murder me, I can tell I'm going to have a soft spot for her. Her eyes widen, glancing at me, "She is going to help sestra?" Sarah pauses, and I can't quite make out the expression on her face. "Yeah." She says quietly. "Yeah she is. And she's your sister now too." Sarah gets up and walks to the kitchen, busying herself boiling the kettle. I stare after her, tears in my eyes. I'm not sure if she meant it, but I can't help but be moved regardless. I'm shocked out of my daze by Helena, who picks up my legs and sits underneath them. She swings her own legs back and forth, smiling almost cheekily at me. "Hello, sestra."

Sarah calls over to us from the kitchen, asking if we want tea. My stomach is still far too hungover to cope with anything right now so I just groan in response. She comes back to us with a steaming mug, setting it down on the coffee table. "I'm gonna take Helena to get some breakfast, Christ knows there's not enough to feed her here." Helena jumps up, apparently delighted at the prospect of food. Sarah points to the mug. "Take that to Cosima, yeah?"

I sit on the edge of the bed, contemplating how best to wake Cosima up, but thankfully she turns over and I see she's already awake. "Hey". "Morning.", I reply, handing her the mug. She seems to struggle to sit herself up and I move to help but she waves me away. She lifts the corner of the blanket up. "Come on in." I clamber into the bed beside her, enjoying the warmth after a night on the floor.

After Cosima has had a chance to drink some of her tea, I ask her how she's feeling. "Pretty shitty." She grimaces. "I'll have a week of flu like sickness, and then if it worked I'll start to feel a lot better." I frown. "I didn't realise there was a chance it wouldn't work." Cosima rubs her eyes wearily, explaining, "With a transfusion from another person, there's always a chance it won't work. Graft versus host disease, you know? But given that you were genetically engineered to be a match for us… Well, Sarah, but same thing… There's a really good chance it'll work just fine." I'm relieved. I can't explain why I feel such a connection to Cosima, to all of them. It'd be easy just to say I've been alone so long that it's nice to be needed. But it feels like something more.

"Cosima?" I get an "Uh-huh?" in response, so I continue, "Who's this other Ciara?" Cosima stiffens, and I almost regret asking the question. "I guess it wouldn't be so bad if I told you. If Sarah gets mad I'll just tell her you got me drunk." She laughs but I still feel a little uncomfortable. "First of all, it's not like the Irish 'Ciara', it's K-I-R-A. And she's Sarah's daughter." I'm struggling to see what the big deal is, when it suddenly clicks with me what Sarah said when I arrived yesterday. About the name being Siobhan's idea. "Why would Siobhan want her to have the same name as me?", I mutter, more to myself than to Cosima, but she expresses her confusion too. I start to ask more questions about Kira, but Cosima tells me it's best to wait for Sarah to tell me. I don't argue.

After a few minutes of silence, Cosima clears her throat. "Given I've just answered a pretty big question for you, think you could answer one for me?" I grunt my assent. "Why are you really doing this?" I sit up straight so I can look at Cosima better. I consider her, saying, "Can't being a decent person be a good enough reason?" She rolls her eyes, almost looking upset. "It's more than that, Ciara." I sit quietly for a moment, struggling with all the emotions I've suppressed for so long. I decide to be honest. "Okay." I say, and smile at Cosima. "First of all, I know it's not what you want to hear, but some of it is you. You're a great person, Cosima, it only takes five minutes to see that." She rolls her eyes again, so I plough on. "I've never talked to anybody about this so bear with me." I take a deep breath, and roll up my sleeves as far as my elbows, revealing my forearms. Cosima gasps. Both my arms are covered in deep, angry red scars, each a centimetre or two in length. However, there is narrow path, right in the middle of my arms, leading from the inside of my elbow to my wrist, that I have left unmarked, apart from a tattoo which fills some of the empty space on my right arm. I explain. "I read once that when people cut their wrists to kill themselves, more often than not, they don't die….. Because they cut themselves across their wrists." I make a slicing motion with my finger from one side of my wrist to the other. "But, if they had cut down their arm.." I draw the nail of my thumb down the empty pathway of my arm. "They almost certainly would have died." I pause for a beat, studying my arms, while Cosima does the same. "I just cut where I knew it would only hurt. There were a lot of times that I wanted to do it. Just end it. But I never could." Cosima is totally engrossed by my words. "Why?" I'm a little startled by the honesty and brashness of the question, but it's a fair one. I show her the tattoo on my right arm. It reads: 'Find something worth dying for'. "I always worried... just when I had almost decided that this was it, this was _the_ time… I'd start thinking 'do I really want to die for nothing?' It seemed so pathetic. Dying just to die. So I told myself, find something _worth_ dying for, and if you still want to end it, you know it's right." I look at Cosima, beautiful Cosima, with her heart of gold, and she has tears in her eyes. She sees it. She knows I've found it.


End file.
